I feel (maybe stupidly) suddenly optimistic about the show.

Another horrific week is rolling to a close. I had a meeting first thing in Glasgow, rushed back to the office for a lunchtime meeting, rushed out of that into a taxi to another meeting and then skived off home when that finished at ten to five - albeit after severely disapproving looks from the lovely Brian, the Hep C account director. Still, I justified it to myself by making various work-related calls on the bus on the way home. But this isn't a blog about my work-related guilt.

So now, home and fed the cats and trying to psyche myself up to clean out the guinea pigs and then go to the last BP rehearsal before the show week. And I'm quite excited. I think my poor world-weary and dispirited cast will be an excellent show. The surviving cast, at any rate. Our sound man is coming along. I'm expecting a full cast bar the children. Though willing to be disappointed. And then we're into the theatre. Exciting times.

Still, I'm willing to believe I'll be disillusioned again four hours hence. We shall see.